


Six-Two (Wanna Hit You)

by ZombieCheeze



Series: Black and Blue [1]
Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: BDSM, Fingering, Little bit of aftercare, M/M, Spanking Kink, Verbal Abuse, dom!bobby, happy birthday ya filthy animal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCheeze/pseuds/ZombieCheeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanbin's driving Bobby crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six-Two (Wanna Hit You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katzengefluster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katzengefluster/gifts).



> I decided to bring this story back, since it was a birthday gift for Kat. <3
> 
> Bobby's dirty lyrics are Kat's own, and she graciously let me use them for this story. :D

“C’mon, Jiwon, it’s midnight.  Are you almost finished?” Hanbin whines, dropping the shade down over the recording room window with a clatter.  “If we don’t finish up soon, they’ll lock us in again.”

 

“Nah, they don’t lock the doors until around three or so.” Bobby says offhandedly.  “I just need a few more lines, then I’ll be done, okay?” He scratches out a few lines with sharp sweeps of his pen, frowning at the paper.  “I just can’t focus.”

 

Hanbin plops into the chair behind Bobby, craning his neck, resting his chin on Bobby’s shoulder.  His mouth is just a little too close to Bobby’s ear to facilitate his thought flow when he whispers, “Do you want some help?”

 

“Hanbin, that’s really distracting.” Bobby says absently, his hand resting loosely on the desk, pen held in relaxed fingers.  “Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee, and I’ll try to think while you’re gone.  That way we can get out of here more quickly.”

 

“Aww.” Hanbin hums in Bobby’s ear, squirming closer to rest his cheek against the side of Bobby’s neck, soft lips brushing distinctly over Bobby’s earlobe.  “You wanna get rid of me that badly?” His voice is low, soft, just above a whisper.  Bobby shakes his head a little, dislodging Hanbin from where he’s mouthing at the spot behind Bobby’s ear, warm breath tickling his neck.

 

“Hanbin, I really can’t focus with you licking my ear.” Bobby says repressively.  “And I really need to finish these lyrics by morning.”

 

“Well, exc _uuuuuu_ se me.” Hanbin draws out the middle of the word in a snotty tone, folding his arms and sticking his tongue out at the back of Bobby’s head.  “Fine, I’ll be quiet, then.” He leans back in his chair in such a comically petulant way that Bobby would laugh, if he weren’t already so frustrated.  “Jerk.” Hanbin adds, for emphasis.  Bobby blows a raspberry at him.

 

But even while Hanbin’s playing a game on his phone in his attempt to be quiet and out of the way, Bobby can’t tune him out.  He can feel Hanbin’s tension crackling through the air—not unpleasantly so, but a concentration of his perpetual nervous energy gnawing at the threshold of Bobby’s patience.  Hanbin’s rocking back and forth in his chair, fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hoodie, winding his hair around his fingers, and Bobby catches the little movements out of the corner of his eye.

 

Hanbin’s trying in earnest to be quiet, but Bobby’s so hyperaware of him that it’s the tiny noises that do him in.  Ten minutes of near-silence in which Bobby’s nerves fray at the tiny scratching noise of Hanbin rubbing a broken fingernail along the inseam of his jeans, at the sound of his mouth as he gnaws at the inside of his lip, the sound of his clothing shifting as he readjusts.

 

Bobby can’t imagine why he’s so on edge, but at this point it’s not important.  Hanbin’s driving him nuts.

 

“Hanbin.” Bobby says, rubbing at his forehead, and the tense silence shatters like a sheet of glass.

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“No?” Hanbin says, but there’s a question in it, like he’s not too sure himself.  “Why?”

 

“Look, I know you’re trying to be quiet, but I can hear everything you’re doing and it’s driving me crazy.”

 

“I’m not doing anything.” Hanbin protests.

 

“No, I know.” Bobby says.  “I mean I’m listening to you breathing and shit, and…yeah, I really can’t focus.”

 

“I’ll try not to breathe, then.” Hanbin says irritably.

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Bobby says, determined not to accept the clear antagonism in Hanbin’s tone.  “I’m just saying for whatever reason my attention isn’t on the lyrics and your being here isn’t helping.  It’s probably just stage fright.”

 

“Well, maybe you should take a break.” Hanbin says reasonably, shrugging.  “You’ve been at it for hours.  We can go for a walk, or…something.”  His voice takes on a sly tone, and Bobby rubs his eyes, sighing.   It’s not so much Hanbin annoying him as the blank, empty buzz of stymied creativity, but Hanbin’s not helping, either.  

 

Hanbin’s trying to provoke him, and it’s working.

 

“Why are you so…fidgety?” Bobby raises an eyebrow, and Hanbin looks up from where he’s playing with the cords on his hoodie.  Something vaguely like guilt flits briefly across his face before he grins at Bobby, leaning forward conspiratorially, as if testing Bobby’s reaction.

 

“I’m really horny.” Hanbin says, cheeks flushing even as he says it.  “Come on, Jiwon, let’s take a break.”

 

Bobby snorts incredulously, but manages to stifle it into a cough.  “Here?” He leans forward to kiss Hanbin briefly, but doesn’t linger.  “Not right now, Hanbin.  Let me get this done, and then I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

 

“But hyung,” Hanbin simpers, coming half out of his chair to lean over Bobby, steadying himself on the armrests of Bobby’s office chair, “come on, please?  It’s been, like, a week, and I really want you to fuck me over this table.”

 

His hands move from the armrests to slide firmly up and over Bobby’s chest, curling around the back of Bobby’s neck as Hanbin attempts to straddle Bobby’s lap (in vain, as the chair isn’t quite big enough to accommodate the two of them like this), pushing Bobby’s notebook aside.  The pen falls from Bobby’s numb fingers onto the carpeted floor with a tiny noise, and Bobby says weakly, “Hanbin, I’m trying to concentrate.” But his thoughts are already miles away and balls-deep in Hanbin over this wobbly workbench.

 

At this point, concentration is simply not going to happen.

 

Hanbin’s hands slide up and into Bobby’s hair, his mouth slanting hotly across Bobby’s lips, and then Bobby grabs him and flips him swiftly.

 

Hanbin yelps with shock as Bobby slings him heavily, belly-down, across his lap.  One of Bobby’s hands lands on the back of his neck to hold him there, the other hand finding his ass, both gripping tightly enough to drive the breath from Hanbin’s lungs.  Hanbin wonders for the first time if perhaps he’s fucked up.

 

Hanbin’s patently too big for Bobby’s lap, but Bobby’s got him balanced on his spread legs, one knee supporting Hanbin’s chest, the other barring his hips.  Hanbin’s sagging in the tight hold Bobby has on the back of his neck, stunned by the swiftness in which he’d been overpowered.

 

Bobby strokes the back of Hanbin’s neck thoughtfully, humming to himself, fingertips carding through the longer strands on the back of Hanbin’s head before gripping tight and yanking Hanbin’s head back.  “I really have left you alone too long, haven’t I?  Hanbin’s missing his hyung?” He muses quietly.  

 

Hanbin smothers a hysterical laugh, lurching slightly in Bobby’s grasp, and Bobby releases Hanbin’s hair slowly, soft strands sticking to his fingers as he strokes Hanbin’s throat slowly, threateningly.  Hanbin shivers, nerves ablaze with anticipation.  

 

“Guess you’re just refusing to hear no for an answer today…I’ll fix that.” Bobby’s tone is neutral, almost conversational, but already developing a hoarse roughness that makes all the hairs on Hanbin’s body stir in fear this time.

 

Yup.  Hanbin fucked up.

 

“Put your hands behind your back, slut.” Bobby orders, and Hanbin struggles to obey, squirming back and forth until Bobby gathers Hanbin’s wrists in one big hand and jerks them back sharply.  Hanbin snarls with rage at the pain of Bobby’s grip, but Bobby’s not having it.  “Shut the fuck up.”

 

Bobby hums again, thoughtful, his other hand stroking Hanbin’s ass thoughtfully, his grip on Hanbin’s wrists excruciating.  “I don’t need you acting out while I’m busy.  Didn’t hyung tell you I was trying to concentrate?” He says coolly, pulling Hanbin’s sweatshirt up to expose his lower back, “Didn’t hyung tell you to wait?”

 

“Yes, hyung.” Hanbin says breathlessly.  His wrists are aching from the tight grip of Bobby’s fingers, and his heart is thumping with anger and fear, but he’s feeling quite apart from that too, the intractable, obedient Hanbin much more eager to please Bobby than he is to indulge the rising tide of his emotions.  The electric tension in the air is thick, crackling over his nerves, little sparks pooling into embers in the pit of his stomach and where his cock is hard against Bobby’s thigh.

 

“But no, Hanbin’s greedy little ass is more important than hyung’s business, isn’t it?” Bobby says, releasing Hanbin’s hands finally, and Hanbin permits himself a silent sigh of relief.  “Hanbin’s such a thirsty fucking slut he can’t wait the twenty minutes it takes hyung to finish.”

 

The anger in his voice draws something like shame out of Hanbin, his heart squeezing tight until his own rage melts into hot guilt.  “I’m sorry, hyung.” Hanbin blurts uncontrollably.

 

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” Bobby growls, grabbing Hanbin abruptly and rolling him to one side to yank his belt and jeans open.  Hanbin gasps as his cock angles forcibly against Bobby’s thigh, and Bobby jerks Hanbin’s pants and underwear down roughly, elastic catching painfully on his erection.

 

Hanbin glances nervously at the glass door as Bobby tugs his pants down more firmly, exposing his ass to the open air.  He’d initially expected the blinds to provide more privacy, but from this angle, the slats seem directed in such a way that anyone walking by might be able to see inside, if they cared to.

 

“What are you looking at?” Bobby croons, letting Hanbin settle back onto his lap, balancing him easily with how pliant Hanbin’s body already is.  “Worried someone might see you in here, getting put in your place?  Nervous someone might see your bare ass?  Should’ve thought of that before talking back to hyung, shouldn’t you?” Bobby’s hand spreads over Hanbin’s lower back, the other resting flat between Hanbin’s shoulder blades.  “I bet you’d like that.  Everyone would know Leader B.I is really just a cockslut and a toy for hyung.”

 

Hanbin whines, but Bobby ignores him entirely.  “Guess I gotta take a break now to remind you of your place, slut.  Would you like that?  You want hyung to go over your manners with you?”

 

“I—yes, hyung.  Yes.” Hanbin stammers, red-faced with embarrassment and need.  He stiffens in anticipation as Bobby’s hand coasts lightly over his bare ass.

 

“The usual safe word.  I don’t hear it, I don’t stop.” Bobby snarls. “Count them and thank me.”

 

“What—?”

 

The first strike of Bobby’s hand across Hanbin’s ass makes him jerk with surprise, the sharp blow muted in the soundroom, only just this side of painful.  “One.” Hanbin blurts thoughtlessly, a heady mixture of fury and adrenaline pumping through him like lightning.

 

“One _what_?” Bobby prompts.

 

“Thank you, hyung.” Hanbin grits out, humiliated and furious.

 

“Let’s try that again, and watch your _fucking_ tone when you speak to me.  Start over.” Bobby says calmly.  His palm cracks across Hanbin’s other cheek, and Hanbin gasps at the impact.

 

“One.  Thank you, hyung.” Hanbin pants, flushing with the strain of holding himself balanced in Bobby’s lap and the expectation of Bobby’s next blow.

 

Bobby spanks him over and over again, powerful, stinging blows interleaved with long pauses, Bobby’s hands fondling and stroking the reddening flesh of Hanbin’s ass, which only serves to draw the pain right to the surface each time his hand comes down again.  Hanbin merely attempts to remember to breathe, dutifully moaning out the count and his thanks with each strike.

 

Sixteen spanks later, Hanbin’s feeling distinctly sore and hideously embarrassed, and not a little bit desperate; each spank had made him squirm, rubbing his cock against the friction of Bobby’s jeans, painfully hard—and painful, period, where Bobby’s knee digs into his hip, the pressure against his balls just this side of agonizing, a new and exciting dimension to the simmering heat low in his belly.

 

Hanbin shifts his hips to relieve the pain of Bobby’s knee squashing his balls, but Bobby’s hand shoots out to wrap around his neck, jerking Hanbin sharply back into place.

 

“Don’t even _think_ about trying to get away from me.” Bobby leans forward as he pulls Hanbin’s head back by the chin, whispering threateningly into Hanbin’s ear.  “Remember what happened the last time you tried that shit?”

 

Hanbin swallows hard, and for the first time he feels tears start in his eyes, a brief flare of terror flashing through his body.  “Y-yes, hyung.” He mumbles through clenched teeth, whimpering as Bobby spanks him again, the sharp sound echoing in Hanbin’s ears.

 

“It hurt, didn’t it?” Bobby rumbles.

 

“Yes, hyung.”

 

“How many?” Bobby’s tongue traces the shell of Hanbin’s ear.  Hanbin’s breaths are sharp in his chest now as he struggles to relax, Bobby’s tight grip on his jaw painful and the deep curve of his spine pushing the air from his lungs.

 

“S-seventeen, hyung.  Thank you.” Hanbin chokes out, the fear rising once more in his gut, wondering if Bobby is going to hurt him again.  But Bobby only releases his jaw, and Hanbin slumps across his lap with a gasp of relief, his hands clinging desperately to one another behind his back.

 

Bobby slips his fingertips unceremoniously between Hanbin’s cheeks to drag dry fingertips over Hanbin’s asshole, the intensity of the sensation dragging a raw moan from Hanbin’s throat.  “Where were we?” Bobby muses, slapping firmly at Hanbin’s sore ass to make the reddened flesh bounce under the impact before digging his fingers in and pulling Hanbin’s cheeks apart painfully.  “Oh, that’s right.  You want to tell hyung what’s got you so spun up?  Why you couldn’t wait the twenty minutes it’d take me to finish?”

 

Hanbin opens his mouth, but his mind goes blank as Bobby’s fingertips press against his entrance again, rubbing roughly over the sensitive flesh.  Bobby doesn’t need an answer, however.  “Just proves my point, Hanbin.  You’re nothing but a filthy cockslut who only thinks about yourself, hm?  All you want is a cock in your ass, nevermind what hyung wants.  Hanbin thinks he’s so important, so special.” He says mockingly, fingertips rubbing over and over Hanbin’s hole, testing, pressing, feeling the flutter and give of the sensitive flesh, and Hanbin bucks in Bobby’s lap at the intensity.

 

“So fucking greedy.” Bobby continues, pushing the tip of one dry finger inside Hanbin’s entrance, and Hanbin’s back arches in surprise, a gasp on his lips.  “Hyung really has spoiled you too much, haven’t I?  What’s going to be enough for you, Hanbin?  What’s going to satisfy your greedy little ass?”

 

Hanbin squirms as the finger sinks in a little deeper, the tip of a second probing inquisitively at the tight ring of muscle, and Hanbin shivers, hoping desperately that Bobby’s not going to finger him dry.  “If I put a plug in you before dance practice, do you think that’d keep your tight little asshole satisfied?  Then maybe you wouldn’t interrupt hyung while I’m working, would you?” Bobby pulls his finger slowly free of Hanbin’s entrance.  The catch and pull of the flesh has Hanbin growling low in his chest, so uncomfortable and so painfully aroused he’s ready to beg and plead for Bobby to stop playing with him.

 

“What do you want, Hanbin?”

 

Hanbin shifts slightly in Bobby’s lap, desperate for relief.  “I want hyung to fuck me.” He says helplessly, beyond shame, breathless with the pressure of Bobby’s knee in his chest and the heated throb of his sore skin with every heartbeat, and eager with the harsh rub of Bobby’s thigh against his cock.

 

“Do you think you deserve that?” Bobby purrs.

 

“Hyung, please.” Hanbin whines, his voice high and thin in his throat.

 

“I think we both know you don’t.” Bobby murmurs, fingertips wet with spit returning to Hanbin’s entrance, the slick slide much less jarring this time.  “But hyung loves you, baby.  I can’t be too angry at you for wanting me so bad, can I?” Bobby’s other hand cards through Hanbin’s hair once, reaching around to cup Hanbin’s cheek, and Hanbin leans into the touch briefly.  “You’ll come exactly when and how I tell you.  Got it?”

 

“Yes, hyung.”

 

“Tell me what I said.” Bobby orders.

 

“I’ll only come exactly when…and how hyung tells me to.” Hanbin recites obediently, pausing only briefly to catch his breath.

 

Bobby’s hand crawls over Hanbin’s cheek to hook two fingers into Hanbin’s soft mouth, tugging at the curve of Hanbin’s lips.  “Make them good and wet, babe.” Hanbin is panting, open-mouthed and sore, but his tongue seeks the stretch of Bobby’s fingers distending his cheek, lips closing obediently around them.  Bobby’s fingers thrust deep into the back of Hanbin’s mouth to make him gag; then he withdraws, a string of saliva stretching and breaking to cling wetly to Hanbin’s chin.

 

Then comes a period of silence and stillness that stretches on and on, and Hanbin knows it’s meant to keep him off balance, to draw his nerves out finer and thinner with each moment of anticipation until Hanbin’s all but trembling where he lies.

 

Bobby lands a powerful slap against Hanbin’s ass, the impact reverberating through his body, Hanbin writhing and crying out at the sharp pain.  Bobby smoothes his fingertips over the bruised skin.  “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes, hyung.” Hanbin whimpers.

 

“How many?”

 

“Eight—eighteen.  Thank you, hyung.” Hanbin stammers, breathless with pain, his cock so hard his brain is beginning to malfunction.

 

“Don’t make me ask you how many again.  You count them for me, or we’ll start over.”

 

“Yes, hyung.”

 

From the corner of his eye, Hanbin sees Bobby reaching for the pump bottle of lotion on the desk, left there by the previous occupant of the room.  A wriggle of excitement twists through Hanbin’s belly as he hears the tiny sound of Bobby pumping lotion into his hand.

 

Bobby’s hand presses flat against Hanbin’s lower back, the other one slick with lotion as it presses between Hanbin’s cheeks to rub slickly at his entrance, lotion warm and slippery.  Hanbin sucks in a breath of surprise as two of Bobby’s fingers push past the resistance of his entrance with no overture, no teasing, sinking deep without waiting for Hanbin to adjust.  Just a reminder of how Hanbin is subject to Bobby’s whims, of how Hanbin is just a toy to be used.

 

Bobby’s fingers slip out, and then plunge in again, Hanbin pitching forward with the sensation.  There’s a hard twist in the pit of his stomach winding tighter as Bobby’s fingers stroke him deeply, slowly, his motions firm and purposeful.  Hanbin’s chest heaves, hands clinging desperately to one another behind his back with white-knuckled anticipation.

 

“Is this enough for you?  Or you want more?” Bobby murmurs in response to Hanbin’s tiny moan, fingertips sweeping over the knot of his prostate.  Hanbin jerks, moaning in surprise as the powerful pleasure strikes at him like a thunderbolt, too powerful and swift to be enjoyable.

 

“ _Hyung_.” Hanbin growls, his voice rough in his throat, almost admonishing.  

 

“Hmm?” Bobby’s fingers slide more deeply, his rhythm speeding up slightly, thumb braced firmly against Hanbin’s sore ass cheek.  Hanbin doesn’t remember what he meant to say as Bobby’s ring finger probes inquisitively at his entrance, Hanbin holding his breath for the stretch and slide.  “Did you want something, Hanbin?”

 

“N-no.” Hanbin says, his attention consumed by the pressure of Bobby’s third finger slipping, with some resistance, inside him.  His thoughts crackle and squeal in and out of tune like a radio, Bobby’s fingers pressing deep into him, the pressure bewildering and frightening and delicious.

 

“But I thought you wanted hyung to fuck you.  So which is it?  Make up my mind, baby.” Hanbin's moaning hoarsely as Bobby fucks him ruthlessly with three fingers, always stopping just short of what might push Hanbin over the edge.  His pinky finger pushes tentatively at the tight pink ring of Hanbin's asshole clenching around Bobby's knuckles, and Hanbin makes a sobbing sound, low and desperate.  "How many fingers are inside you?  Tell me."

 

"H-hyung, I don't—"

 

"Tell me."

 

"F-four."

 

"Wrong." Bobby says.  "But it's about to be, so I'll let it go." And he squeezes his pinky carefully in alongside his other three fingers, Hanbin moaning wildly at the pressure turning to intense stretch, the back of his neck flushed with exertion.

 

"God, Hanbin, you're fucking stuffed.  I knew you could take it.  Maybe I'll get Junhwe back in here and we'll both fill you so full of cock you won't be able to sit down for a week." Bobby breathes hotly, stroking Hanbin’s lower back as he begins to move his fingers slowly inside Hanbin.  Hanbin’s writhing, moaning wildly, hiccuping with every slow thrust as Bobby’s fingers slide in to the hilt to spread him wide.

 

"Yeah, bet you'd like that.  Oppa's got a big cock, remember that?  I bet your tight little ass could take both of us at the same time.  You'd love it, wouldn't you?"

 

"Hyung!" Hanbin says, gasping for breath as Bobby's tightly-grouped fingers plunge deep again, trembling with overstimulation as his orgasm rears up in his belly like a coiling serpent.  "Hyung, gonna make me come—"

 

"You will not.” Bobby snarls.  “Let me remind you of something, Hanbin.  You belong to me, your body is mine, from your filthy slut mouth down to your fucking cum.” He continues coldly.  "You'll come when I say you can and not a moment before.  Do you understand me?”

 

"Y-yes, hyung." Hanbin groans, panting.

 

Bobby pulls out of Hanbin anyway, the stretch of Hanbin’s slick entrance squeezing his withdrawing fingers in vain.  Hanbin lets out a shaky breath, frustrated and angry but utterly silent.

 

The sound of Bobby spitting noisily in his hand makes Hanbin crane around in an attempt to see Bobby over his shoulder, but all that happens is that Bobby’s fingers wrap tightly around his wrists, twisting his arms painfully until Hanbin collapses over Bobby’s lap again.  The silence is broken only by Hanbin’s heavy breaths as he tries vainly to gather his scattered thoughts.

 

Bobby’s hand strikes across his bruised ass, so sharp and painful that Hanbin’s cry of pain is significantly belated, shattering any ounce of focus he’d managed to regain.

 

“Twenty—twenty—” Hanbin stammers.  He’s completely lost count, and he bites his lip, dread rising swiftly in his gut.

 

“You don’t sound too sure.” Bobby says, callously amused, “Let’s start over, hmm?”

 

Bobby’s palm is still hard, and Hanbin dutifully counts out another ten spanks.  The clout of his hand is really beginning to hurt against the bruised flesh of Hanbin’s ass, especially when Bobby pauses every few slaps to spit into his palm again, the wetness increasing the sting until Hanbin is whimpering with every blow, the pain and arousal beginning to make his head swim.

 

Bobby's fingers return to Hanbin's hole, slippery with lotion, and slip back inside all at once until Hanbin's writhing, moaning against the pressure of Bobby's knuckles spreading him so wide.   "Yeah, that's right, little cockslut." Bobby snarls.  "Hyung is gonna make sure you're satisfied, make sure this sloppy hole of yours is full just the way you asked for."

 

"Please, hyung, let me come—" Hanbin whimpers, squirming in Bobby’s lap.  He’s dizzy with pain, his skin on fire, his body quivering as Bobby’s fingers plunge deep.  "I want—please, please—"

 

"No." Bobby laughs softly.  "Don't ask me again.  You’ll come when I tell you you can, not when you beg for permission.” He murmurs, his fingers sinking back into Hanbin smoothly, other hand redoubling his grip on Hanbin’s wrists.

 

“Hyung…” Hanbin pleads, hiccupping as Bobby’s fingers curl inside him, the stretch intense as his body works to accommodate the intrusion.  Full to bursting and practically paralyzed by all the stimulation, he thinks he might faint, his hips working automatically to grind himself against Bobby’s thigh.

 

Bobby can read him so easily, see the tension in his spine and his muscles crawling in anticipation, his fingers pushing hard against Hanbin’s prostate.  Hanbin twists back against him, a gasp leaving his mouth again, just shy of a moan, and then Bobby’s fingers let up slightly, just enough for Hanbin to get a grip on himself again.

 

Hanbin’s self-control is suspended by a single silk thread, and he’s got to be careful not to snap it, holding himself in balance as Bobby fucks him ruthlessly.  Bobby’s hand is so tight on Hanbin’s wrists he feels his hands beginning to go numb, but he’s so focused on holding himself back that he can’t feel any of the pain.  

 

He’s cracking, and Bobby knows it better than Hanbin.

 

“Come, bitch.” Bobby growls.  Hanbin arches immediately in Bobby’s hold, back bowing up, head tossed back and wailing helplessly as he comes all over Bobby’s thigh, the long thin wire he’s balancing upon finally snapping as he tumbles headlong into searing orgasm.  He shudders through sparking nerve endings and a rush of blistering, blinding heat from the ends of his hair to the tips of his toes as Bobby fucks him all the way through.

 

Hanbin sags in Bobby’s hold, panting with exertion, but Bobby’s not finished yet.  He retracts two fingers, index and middle still deep inside and pushing hard, Hanbin trembling violently at the overstimulation.  “Hyung—hyung, stop—oh god, stop, please, please—” Hanbin begs, his voice raw and grating with the half-sob that leaves his lips.  Bobby doesn't stop, his fingers curled precisely and forcing the last tremors out of his orgasm, until Hanbin jerks half out of Bobby’s lap, overcome by the intensity.

 

Hanbin’s drained, and too sore to move, when Bobby finally pulls his fingers out.  He sighs with relief, still dazed and sprawled limply across Bobby’s lap.

 

“Hey, Hanbin, you still with me?” Bobby says, wiping his hand surreptitiously on the inside of his sweatshirt pocket, clean hand reaching forward to stroke through Hanbin’s hair.  “Talk to me, baby.”

 

“I’m okay.” Hanbin says roughly, his feet clumsily attempting to find purchase on the floor.  “Fuck, Jiwon.  That hurt.”

 

“Yep.” Bobby agrees.  “Come here, let me help.”

  
Hanbin lets Bobby carefully pull his pants up for him, steadying him with a hand on his hip as Hanbin finds his balance.  “Come here, sit down, babe.  Relax.  You did great.” Bobby says softly, and Hanbin lets Bobby pull him onto his lap, leaning heavily against him.  His hips rock with the soreness of his ass, trying to get comfortable, a groan leaving his lips as he settles.  “You feel alright?” Bobby prompts, pressing his face into Hanbin’s neck, where he can feel the wild pulse in Hanbin’s throat against his mouth.

 

Hanbin’s still panting and glaze-eyed, but smiling as Bobby rubs Hanbin’s aching wrists with his hands.   He leans his cheek against Bobby’s forehead with a happy sigh.  “Yeah.  I feel great.  Except my ass is gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.  Fuck’s sake, Jiwon, was that necessary?” But his voice has no heat, and Bobby chuckles.

 

Bobby reaches up to pull Hanbin down with a gentle, firm grip on his ear.  “For a slut like you?  Absolutely.” He says softly, and Hanbin shivers and grins at whatever he hears in Bobby’s voice.

 

Hanbin’s so exhausted and relaxed right now he could probably fall asleep like this, but Bobby’s already pulling him upright and steadying him with a hand around his waist.  Hanbin makes a sound of wordless protest, too sleepy and befuddled to articulate his bone-deep desire for a nap.  “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up, then you can nap on the desk while I finish.  We’re both a total mess.”

 

Bobby half-walks, half-carries Hanbin down the hall to the bathroom, and Hanbin cleans himself up with a wet wipe in the bathroom stall while Bobby washes his hands.  The process is slowed considerably when Bobby enters the stall with him, pinning Hanbin in the corner of the stall to cuddle, and Hanbin crumples against him like a doll.  They spend several minutes there, Bobby stroking Hanbin’s hair while Hanbin simply leans into him, drawing energy and strength from Bobby, the breath from Hanbin’s nose tickling Bobby’s neck.

 

“C’mon, baby, let’s go back and get finished.” Bobby whispers, and Hanbin blinks and sighs,             coming out of a trance.  “You alright?”

 

“Mhmm.” Hanbin hums pleasantly, eyelashes fluttering closed as he leans against Bobby companionably.  “Really good.”

 

“Good.” Bobby kisses him once, taking his time, Hanbin’s soft lips parting to the brush of his tongue.  Bobby has to stop before the taste of Hanbin’s mouth, and the way he’s looking at Bobby through half-closed eyes, gets him hard again.

 

Hanbin collapses bonelessly into his chair the moment they return to their room, slumping over sleepily on the workbench, his face mashed flat against the desk so that his heart-shaped lips are pushed into a rosebud by the pressure, soft and pink.  Bobby ruffles his hair and amuses himself by attaching sticky notes to Hanbin’s forehead for several minutes before picking up his notebook from the floor and beginning to write.

 

“Hey, Hanbin, wake up.” Bobby shakes Hanbin gently, lips against Hanbin’s ear, and Hanbin comes to very reluctantly indeed, groaning sleepily and stretching.  “I finished my lyrics.”

 

Hanbin yawns, smacking his lips and growling when his weight shifts just right to put pressure on the bruised part of his ass.  “Ah, fuck.” He groans, picking the sticky notes off his face with impatience, blinking furiously to moisten his dry eyes.  “Lemme see.” He mumbles, rubbing his fingers over his face and pulling Bobby’s notebook over in front of him.

 

Hanbin’s eyes skim the scribbly words once, and then again, his eyebrows climbing higher and higher on his forehead, disbelief mounting with every word, the sleep lines leaving his face almost as quickly as the color drains out of it.  He glances at Bobby after every verse, mumbling the words to himself in astonishment.

 

“Uh, I don’t think you’ll get away with these, Jiwon.”

 

“What’s wrong with them?” Bobby grins.

 

“ _Hands on your neck and I’m makin’ you choke/Makin’ you feel like your life is a joke/And I’m fuckin’ you hard and causin’ you pain/No greater pleasure could you hope to attain_ —Jiwon, what the fuck.” Hanbin runs a hand through his hair in exasperation.

 

“You don’t like my sexy lyrics?” Bobby teases, pinching Hanbin’s cheek.  Hanbin bats his hand away impatiently.

 

Hanbin rakes his fingers through his hair a second time, sighing.  “No, I mean, they’re good.  They’re great, even.  But…you can’t turn these in.  They’d be scandalized.”

 

Bobby chuckles.  “I’m just fucking with you.  The actual lyrics are on the second page.”

 

Hanbin flips the top page over and skims these too.  “Okay, I guess they’ll do.” He says lamely, his mind still full of Bobby’s filthy lyrics.

 

“They’ll have to.  I’m beat.” Bobby stretches, yawning hugely, and Hanbin flips the notebook closed and hands it back to Bobby, still shaking his head in disbelief.  “Now let’s get this room cleaned up before I change my mind about fucking you over this desk.”

 

Hanbin catches Bobby’s eye with a grin, and lets out a bark of laughter as Bobby shoves him down headfirst over the desk, sending papers flying.

 


End file.
